To wear the hood is to disappear.
Not into fantasy. Not into identity. But into obedience without name. Unlike the mask, which conceals selectively and offers a persona in its place, the hood obliterates the entire face, and with it, the performance. No lips to pout. No gaze to manipulate. No smirk to soften the edge. The hood is the unnegotiated silence that falls over the room when the subject has nothing left to say — or more precisely, nothing left to be. It is not a cost
